


The Benefits of a Brawl

by warqueenfuriosa



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 09:50:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7217677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warqueenfuriosa/pseuds/warqueenfuriosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ezra figured out a long time ago that a good bloody brawl got Chris all fired up. And Ezra loved it. He wasn't above starting a few fights here and there to get Chris' undivided attention...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Benefits of a Brawl

Chris watched the fight beginning to boil on the other side of the saloon through the shadows and the gray smoke…

But he didn’t do a damn thing about it and he wasn’t going to.

It wasn’t exactly unusual for some heated exchange to crop up around Ezra like a thunderstorm. And Chris sure as hell wasn’t going to jump every time Ezra was accused of cheating. If he did, he’d never get a moment’s peace. This little pissing contest looked to be about the daily fare for Ezra anyway so he was going to let Ezra handle it himself. The jackass he'd been playing cards with was now flinging accusations left and right. He shoved his chair back until it toppled and jabbed his finger right in Ezra’s face.

“Now you’re lyin’,” he spat. “Now you’re lyin’ and you cheated like a goddamn coward.”

Chris sucked in a breath through his teeth and let out a very small, low growl. Looked like he wasn’t going to be sitting this one out after all.

“I assure you, sir,” Ezra said, his smooth voice floating up through the haze, “you are entirely mistaken on all accounts.”

There was a slight strain in Ezra’s voice, in his choice of words and how he delivered them -  clipped, short, overly polite - in the deceptively even cadence to his tone despite the tense situation…no one else would take note of it. Only Chris. Only Chris could tell Ezra was hot under the collar – blazing, in fact – at the triple accusation. One or the other wouldn’t have made any difference to Ezra. But all three at once? Ezra must be trying his damnedest to not deck the idiot where he stood.

“You are simply,” Ezra continued, “a deplorable card player.”

Chris closed his eyes and sighed. He didn’t even need to watch as the first punch went flying. He knew the effect those words would have, and Ezra did too. Damn him. So Chris threw back his whisky and stood as the brawl ignited and spread through the saloon like wildfire.

For all his dandy ways, Ezra could put up one hell of a fight, appearances be damned. Chris lingered behind for a moment or two, letting Ezra work off some of that fury that had been coiling up in him like a snake while that fool had been accusing him.

Until the knife came out.

No one else saw it, not even Ezra. It was merely a wink of light off the thin blade of the knife, a promise that this fight was going to get serious in a matter of seconds and someone was going to die to avenge wounded pride and empty pockets.

Chris was across the room in only a few long strides. Josiah seemed to materialize behind the accuser at the same time, locked his arms around him, and hauled him to the other side of the room. Chris caught Ezra’s arms and pulled him back, Ezra struggling the whole way.

“Let me go,” he hissed. “My business with this gentleman isn’t finished.”

“It is now,” Chris said.

Ezra kept trying to squirm his way free of Chris’ hold so Chris wrestled him out the door and down the nearest alley.

“I have a reputation to look after, Mr. Larabee,” Ezra ground out. “I cannot let that man get away with such ludicrous accusations.”

When they were a good distance away from the street, safely tucked around the corner and hidden from view, Chris shoved Ezra against the wall, one arm locked against Ezra’s chest, pinning him there.

“You’re the only one who gives a damn about your reputation,” Chris said, his voice dangerously low. “It’s not worth getting yourself killed over.”

Ezra gritted his teeth. “I had it all in hand and…”

“So you saw the knife then?”

The rest of Ezra’s protests died on his lips and his mouth hung open, empty, useless. He hadn’t seen the knife, but he should have. He’d been in more than enough scuffles in his lifetime to know when a weapon was coming into play.

“That’s what I thought,” Chris said. “Got all hot headed when that fool got to you.”

“He didn’t get to…”

“Yes he did.”

“But he said…”

“I don’t care.”

Ezra huffed in frustration. The heat of the moment was beginning to fade and his senses were starting to come into focus again. His back ached from where Chris had thrown him against the wall.

“Fine,” he said. “Would you kindly release me?”

Chris said nothing, only stared at him. Ezra raised his eyebrows. And a small smile began to play at the corners of Chris’ mouth, a very small, very rare smile that Ezra had only seen less than a handful of times…

“No,” Chris said. “Think I like you right where you are.”

Ezra glanced up the alleyway but there was no one in sight and there wouldn’t be, he knew that.  When he turned back to look at Chris, he suddenly became aware of how close they were, how Chris’ hips pressed so purposefully against his…

“You do not play fair, Mr. Larabee,” he whispered.

And Chris laughed softly as he brought his free hand up, wrapped his fingers around the back of Ezra’s neck and pulled him close, his lips warm and firm against Ezra’s mouth.

It had been like this for a while but it never ceased to amaze Chris at how quickly they could go from bitching at each other in public to…this. More than once he’d realized how much it felt like a con, putting on a show for everyone while carrying on something else when no one was around. Not that he was complaining, not that he COULD complain with the way Chris was claiming Ezra’s mouth at the moment.

Ezra’s fingers danced over the metal studs on Chris’ belt until he found the buckle and loosened it with a deft – and much practiced – flick of his wrist. Chris smiled against Ezra’s lips and slid his tongue so deliciously into Ezra’s mouth that Ezra let out a little whimper.

Ezra had figured out a long time ago that a good bloody brawl got Chris fired up like this, turned him into one big whirlwind of feral hunger, bare desperation, and searing raw need.

And Ezra loved it.

That little tiff back at the saloon might not have been intended, but Ezra wasn’t above starting a few fights here and there for the sole purpose of generating the moments that surely followed only a few impatient steps behind, moments like this. Moments with Chris’ hot mouth on Ezra’s lips, his jaw, his neck. Moments when Chris’ long, lean, hard body was pressed against him, making Ezra ache to shed every scrap of clothing just to feel Chris’ skin on his.

Ezra might not have started that fight earlier…but he sure as hell enjoyed reaping the rewards of it now.

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Magnificent Seven, any, any: It was amazing how fast they went from brawling in the saloon to other things in more intimate places on fic_promptly: http://fic-promptly.dreamwidth.org/443559.html?thread=13925543#cmt13925543


End file.
